


Two Ruins Are Enough to Build a House

by Rising_from_the_ashes



Category: My Candy Love
Genre: (at least trying to), Angst, Candy - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, MCLHSL, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Slow Burn, Snarky Friends to Lovers, Teenage Drama, Trauma, high school life, probably some more characters along the way to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_from_the_ashes/pseuds/Rising_from_the_ashes
Summary: “Well, it looks like a new student will be joining your class. Go ahead, introduce yourself,” Mr. Reed announces.Castiel huffs.Poor soul that now has to attend this ratchet school, he thinks to himself sarcastically. The next thing he hears is the voice of a girl.“My name is Everly Eden and I really hate introductions.”After the Deborah-Debacle, Castiel has sworn to never fall in love ever again. Because love apparently makes stupid. And new student Everly surely won't change his mind. But even Castiel knows that love usually comes knocking when you least expect it.
Relationships: Candy/Castiel (My Candy Love)
Kudos: 8





	1. runaway – but what are we running from?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people :)  
> I have some things to say before we get into this. First things first: I am neither French (the game's origin, if you weren't aware), nor American (where most of the fanfics here seem to be set) so I have about zero clues on how those school systems actually work (apart from teen movies), so my story will be set in a fictional place where I can bend laws as I please, such as legal drinking age, acquiring a driver's licence and so on.  
> So just a quick overview over what I have set to be the "ground rules": legal drinking age is 16 for beer and wine and 18 for liquor. You can get a driver's licence at 18. The school year starts in late August/early September and college application starts in the summer after graduating. There's a winter break that starts on Christmas Eve and goes until the second week of January.  
> I've kept pretty close to the laws I'm used to from my home (props if you can guess where I'm from :D).  
> The chapter titles are going to be lyrics and I'm going to put the references in the notes for you :)  
> Please be lenient with my mistakes, as English is not my mother tongue and it has been a long, long time since I've been playing these games so I might be a bit rusty on the details. I would love to know what you think tho! <3  
> One more thing: I'll probably bring Yeleen from University Life into this because I loooooooved her character arch :D
> 
> Now I'm going to let you read the actual story and I promise that not all my notes will be their own chapter ;) Thank you so much for reading <3  
> First title reference: Audience of One by Rise Against  
> \- Phoenix

It is the first day of school after winter break and Castiel has already had enough. Not only is it cold and wet, but he was also forced to be on time. Lysander picked him up on his way to school and practically dragged him out of bed and into his car. He didn’t even give Castiel the chance to get coffee. “You’re only going to stall and delay us,” he said. Pfft. A day that doesn’t start with coffee is a wasted day to Castiel. Christmas wasn’t great either. His parents didn’t make it again this year – as was expected. But Castiel’s inner child still hopes. How stupid.

He is now sitting in the back of the classroom, far away from Lysander – he is still mad at him for denying Castiel coffee – with his feet kicked up on the desk while playing a silly game on his phone. He doesn’t look up, not even when he hears the door close and the rustling paper on the teacher’s desk.

Someone in front of the class clears their throat. “I see we have the honour of Mr Ward joining us on time today,” Mr Reed calls out, amusement in his voice, “have you made New Year’s resolutions or is this a singular occurrence?”

Castiel puts his phone down and frowns. “Singular occurrence,” he states simply, Mr Reed barking out a laugh at his words.

“None the less your feet don’t belong on the desk and your phone belongs into your bag. That goes for all of you – let’s start the new year on the right foot, people!”

Castiel sighs deeply but obeys begrudgingly. Mr Reed is actually not too bad a teacher, he thinks, not that he would admit this out loud. He would also not change his mind about the subjects he teaches – Mathematics and Physics – just because the teacher has a sense of humour.

He lays his head on his crossed arms on the desk, listening only half-heartedly to the teacher’s droning voice. Maybe he can at least make use of this class by catching up some sleep.

He is almost dozing off when the classroom door is opened again, startling him enough to wake up again. Mr Reed stops his monologue mid-sentence, then there’s a hushed conversation Castiel doesn’t even try and make out.

“Well, it looks like a new student will be joining your class. Go ahead, introduce yourself,” Mr Reed announces.

Castiel huffs. _Poor soul that now has to attend this ratchet school_ , he thinks to himself sarcastically. The next thing he hears is the voice of a girl.

“My name is Everly Eden and I really hate introductions.” He doesn’t need to look up to know that she just rolled her eyes but he does it anyway, intrigued by her annoyed tone and husky voice that feels like velvet on his skin.

She looks younger than she must be and certainly younger than she sounds. He would’ve pegged her for 15, around two years younger than him, but he can’t tell whether it has to do with the tattered leather jacket hanging off her shoulders that makes her look small and frail or whether it’s just the way she looks. Long messy locks of raven hair fall down to her waist and except the brown leather jacket all her clothes are black, from the Converse high tops, over her opaque tights and the jean shorts to her t-shirt. A cold shiver runs down Castiel’s back – how she doesn’t freeze in this outfit is beyond him. Her eyes are so blue that he can see it even from this distance and they’re darting around like she’s sizing up the classroom. If she had more curves she could almost look like a young Amy Lee.

Mr Reed clears his throat and asks her to sit down and she approaches the only empty spot in the classroom – right next to Castiel. He groans inwardly. He is not in the mood for company. He has chosen this seat because no one sits next to him here. Why is the universe so against him?

But she surprises him by plopping down on the chair, taking out a notepad and a pen and not saying a word to him.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and takes his notepad out as well. Not to actually take notes – the only form of a matrix he cares about is when Keanu Reeves is involved – but to toy with some ideas he’s had for his and Lysander’s band’s logo.

After a while he notices Everly watching him with an eyebrow arched interestedly. He shoots her a questioning look.

“Looks a lot like Winged Skull, doesn’t it?”, she whispers, pointing at his doodles, a spark in her eye he could almost pass off as amusement, and sure enough; when he takes a closer look at what he has produced he can see a certain familiarity with his favourite band’s artwork. He feels his ears burn, like he’s a school boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but he pulls himself together before he gives himself away.

He covers it with his usual scowl. “You know Winged Skull?”, he asks in disbelief, sizing her up again. It doesn’t look too far off, with her black clothes and definitely dyed hair – no one has hair as black as hers (and he must know, as it is his natural hair colour).

“Sure,” she states, “they make some decent music.”

Her utterance catches him off guard and his eyes go wide. “Decent?!”, he repeats a bit too loudly, “their music isn’t _decent_!”

Before Everly can respond, Mr Reed speaks up. “Mr. Ward, Miss Eden, I’m glad you two seem to be finding common ground, but I would appreciate it if you could turn your attention back to our matrix-vector multiplication now, as it is going to be among the topics in your A-Level exams and I would hate to see you here again next year.” His voice, though light with humour, carries a warning that none of the two addressees wants to ignore and so their short conversation finds an abrupt end. Castiel catches a smirk on her lips before she turns her head to the front though.

“So you made friends with the new girl?”, Lysander asks Castiel teasingly when they stand next to each other, putting their stuff in their lockers after the lesson.

Castiel shuts his locker door with vigour. “No,” he answers determinedly. He doesn’t make friends.

“What’s her name again? Eluveitie?”, Lysander continues, ignoring his friend’s response. Or maybe he just hasn’t heard him – you never know with Lysander.

“Everly,” Castiel corrects absent-mindedly.

“So you bothered to remember her name.” He really hates the knowing smile on Lysander’s face when he says it.

“We exchanged like three words. We’re not friends,” Castiel insists.

Lysander just shrugs. “If you say so.”

Lysander has French next, while Castiel has Educational Studies, an elective that has the reputation of being an easy pass and choosing between this and French was a given, French being a language he wouldn’t want to learn if his life depended on it. Over the course of the last year he has actually come to find Educational Studies mildly interesting, though. Not that he’d tell anyone. He has a reputation to uphold.

In this class he usually sits by himself as Lysander isn’t there, but today, as soon as he sits down, Rosalya slides into the seat next to him. She flips her long, silvery hair over her shoulder, turning to him.

“Good morning, Cas,” she greets him in a sing-song voice and he arches his eyebrows in suspicion. Rosalya _never_ talks to him in this class. They aren’t even friends, really. They just tolerate each other when they both hang out with Lysander.

“I told you not to call me that,” he grunts.

She ignores him and gives him a wide smile. “You talked to Everly in Maths class,” she states, “what is she like?”

The second person to talk to him about the new girl. Why is everyone so obsessed with her? It’s like there’s nothing else going on in this school... oh, wait. There _is_ nothing else going on in this school. Well.

He looks around, noticing that he doesn’t see Everly anywhere. So she must’ve taken French, like Lysander.

“Have you somehow turned into Peggy? If you want to get to know her, talk to her yourself,” he shoots back and Rosa at least has the decency to look mildly offended.

“I’m not trying to put my nose into other people’s businesses, am I?”, she hisses. “I just asked because I haven’t seen you talk to anyone else than Lysander in a while.”

He shoots her an annoyed look. “Aren’t you putting your nose into _my_ business then?”

She huffs, aggravated now. “You know what, Castiel? Do whatever you want. I just asked because I care.” With that she picks up her stuff and struts to her usual seat.

 _Great_ , he thinks. _Another one bites the dust._ Not that he cares too much about Rosa (and she only does about him in extension, because she cares about Lysander), but it’s not like he actually _wants_ to drive everyone away. At least he won’t have to endure her inquisition now.

The next time he sees Rosa is after their lunch break when they have English together. He thought about skipping because of his foul mood, but English is his favourite subject next to Music, so he stayed. Rosa is sitting next to Everly, giving him a pointed look when he sits down next to Lysander. _This isn’t going to end well for him._


	2. and you can keep all your misery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people,
> 
> here comes another chapter, let me know what you think :)  
> Title reference: Therapy by All Time Low
> 
> Enjoy!  
> \- Phoenix

Everly sits in the waiting room, well… waiting. She doesn’t actually want to be here but her parents made her go, so she’s here anyway. She stares at the bookshelf opposite her, full of books suited for a wide range of ages, from picture books for toddlers to novels and non-fiction for young adults. _Self-help books_ , she notices and cringes.

“Everly?”, the voice of a middle-aged man startles her and pulls her out of her revery. He’s tall and neither lean nor burly, his blond hair is floofy on top of his head. He seems friendly and calm and Everly doesn’t really know what to make of him.

She stands up, following him to his office which is well-lit, more spacious than she expected and the couch in it does not look like she’s supposed to lie on it. It does look moderately comfortable though.

“Please, make yourself as comfortable as you’d like. My name is Taran Alden, you can just call me Taran,” the therapist tells her.

She sits down on the edge of the couch, hands on both sides of her bum, gripping the soft fabric. She looks around nervously, checking out the furniture, the carpet, the huge bookshelves, the coffee table – she looks everywhere except in Mr Alden’s direction.

“Why are you here, Everly?” He is still as calm as he was before. Her twitching and squirming don’t seem to set him off at all.

“My parents made me come. I don’t really want to be here,” Everly states.

“Okay. Do you want to tell me why you don’t want to be here? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He gives her an unobtrusive smile, leaning backwards in his armchair.

“I’m not crazy. I don’t need therapy,” she looks him directly in the eye while saying it, voice stern and with an edge to it. Maybe to prove her point. She doesn’t know. It’s not like she cares what he thinks of her.

Mr Alden laughs heartily. “I agree with you, Everly, you’re not crazy.”

This is not what Everly expected. She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but she doesn’t say anything.

“You know what?”, her therapist speaks up again after finishing his laugh, “we don’t need to talk about anything that you don’t want to talk about. We don’t even need to talk at all if you prefer that. We can just chat, if you’d like; you can tell me about what you do in your free time or you can vent to me about your classmates. Anything goes, really. The only thing I need from you, Everly, is for you to be here, because otherwise you would have to pay for the missed sessions yourself.”

Everly nods, gritting her teeth. Her parents have told her how this will work with the insurance company and everything.

“Oh,” Mr Alden adds, “we also have five weeks to get to know each other and decide whether this arrangement is going to work for the both of us. It is not going to be my sole decision, you’ll have a word in it, too. It will count a lot more than mine, to be honest.” He is now serious and Everly genuinely believes that he means what he says. It takes a whole lot of pressure off her chest. Like she would ever come back here voluntarily.

The therapist breaks out into a smile again. “So, let’s start – what would you like to talk about?”

Everly scoots back on the couch a little so she can sit properly. She crosses her arms over her chest, thinking about what he said. She doesn’t want to talk about her spare time with him, neither does she want to talk about why her parents think therapy would be a good idea for her or why they moved to this stupid town. But she doesn’t feel comfortable sitting in silence for a whole hour with this man watching her.

She finally settles on the first thing that comes to her mind: “I’ve only had my first day of school today, so there’s not much to tell,” she says, her fingers gripping the soft leather from her jacket that she’s still wearing.

Mr Alden smiles. “Oh, your first day of school, how exciting” – she shoots him a horrified look, but he just grins back – “have you made some friends yet?”

Everly huffs. “I don’t want to make friends.”

“Why?” His smile turns impish, “do none of the kids in your school share your love for the colour black?”

Everly is so taken aback by his statement that she stutters a “no” in surprise. “That’s… that’s not it.” She pulls her jacket closer to cover up more of her black shirt. _Are therapists allowed to say something like this?_

“I’m sorry, I’m just joking. So, there’s simply no one you would like to connect with?” Mr Alden is more serious now and Everly can see that he’s only joked out of good will. Probably to break the tension or something. She lets go of her jacket.

“I don’t know, there’s this Rosalya girl who seems okay.” She shrugs.

Mr Alden arches an eyebrow. “She seems okay? That does not sound too convincing,” he states.

Everly exhales deeply, thinking of their conversation in English earlier today. “I don’t know,” she repeats, “when we talked in class today, she went on and on about her boyfriend and how he had a fashion store and designed her dress for her and all. She just seems so over the top. And…,” she takes a moment to continue, “I don’t know why we’re talking about that. I _have_ friends. I don’t need more!” A frustrated sigh escapes her lips a bit more fiercely than she intended.

“But your friends are…,” he leaves the sentence for her to finish.

“They’re on the other end of the country, yes,” Everly growls angrily. She doesn’t need another reminder of this.

“So, it might be nice to have someone to talk to on this end of the country, wouldn’t it?” Mr Alden says it lightly, a spark of mischief in his eyes. Everly still doesn’t know what to make of him.

“I have you for that, don’t I?” She shoots back provocatively, jutting her chin forward, but instead of trying to lecture her, he barks out a laugh.

“I guess you could say that. So that Rosalya is the only one who is halfway interesting?”

Everly shrugs again. Their session seems to include a lot of shrugging, she thinks. “There’s this guy who likes the same music as I do,” she says, voice purposely bored, “but he’s super grumpy.”

“Okay, so we have over-the-top Rosalya with a boyfriend in fashion and grumpy-music-guy. That’s not half bad, is it,” Mr Alden summarises and Everly has to giggle against her will. When he puts it like that, it _does_ sound like an interesting group of people.

“What’s grumpy-music-guy’s name?”

Everly cocks her head to the side. “I don’t know,” she says surprisedly as she realises that his name actually hasn’t come up yet, “I just know that his last name is ‘Ward’.”

“But you two must’ve talked about music to find out you liked the same kind, mustn’t you,” Mr Alden assumes.

Everly shakes her head. “He doodled the logo of my favourite band and when I said they made decent music, he totally flipped out and said they weren’t ‘ _decent’_ ,” she air-quotes around her last word, involuntarily smirking at the memory.

“So, you already had a – what do you young people call that? – a meet-cute?”, he asks teasingly while scratching his head in fake thoughtfulness.

Everly’s face turns bright red immediately, partly in embarrassment, partly in anger when her inner alarms go off. “You’re supposed to be my therapist, not my matchmaker!”, she cries out, hugging her leather jacket close to her body again, like she can make herself smaller like this somehow.

Mr Alden’s left eyebrow shoots up before he can stop the reaction, then he leans forward in his chair conciliatorily. “I’m sorry if I overstepped with this comment, Everly,” he says earnestly, “I promise that I just tried to be funny and did not want to insinuate anything or upset you.”

Everly stares at him for a few moments, contemplating whether he is to be trusted. After studying his face closely, she decides that he must mean it. Up until now he has only given her reasons to believe in his sincerity.

“Fine,” she grumbles, “just don’t do it again.”

When Everly comes home the house is empty, but she doesn’t mind a bit of peace and quiet. Her mind still races with thoughts. She thinks of Rosalya and the redheaded ‘Mr Ward’, of her old school, of her friends… Yeleen. The thought of her best friend ‘back home’ makes her homesick.

Mr Alden’s words keep ringing in her head. _It might be nice to have someone to talk to on this end of the country, wouldn’t it?_

But she already has friends! She has Yeleen! At least she did… she thinks of their last conversation. She had told Yeleen that her parents wanted to move and that she’d have to go. Yeleen had not taken it too well.

She looks at her watch and knows that it is too early to call the dark-skinned girl with the wild hair and chocolate brown eyes. Maybe a letter would be better anyway. To write everything down without one of them going off. Being able to reread and edit it. Taking time to pick the right words. But what are the right words anyway?

She takes out her notepad and pen, staring at the blank page for at least ten minutes. How do you even begin a letter to your longest and best friend who you said things to that you can’t even think now? Yes, they’ve both said some bad things, threw accusations in the heat of the moment. But they all had a ring of truth to them. A truth Everly is too afraid to face.

She sets the pen down without writing anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but I imagine Mr Alden to be like Stephen Fry in temperament (not in looks though).
> 
> On another note: didn't I say I would bring Yeleen into this? ;)


	3. sugar and spice and everything nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people,
> 
> I've decided to try and stick to weekly updating this, probably on Fridays, depending on how busy my week has been, but I can't promise anything as uni has just started again and I'm knee deep in deadlines and assignments already. Bear with me, please ;)  
> The next few chapters are going to be a tad bit shorter...
> 
> Let me know what you think :)
> 
> Title reference: King For A Day - Green Day
> 
> Love,  
> Phoenix

They have a free period on Wednesday and Castiel intends to spend it on the roof after walking Demon but when he opens the door he can see three people already sitting up there.

Since he showed Lysander his favourite spot on campus he is used to seeing him up here and occasionally Lysander brings Rosa and Castiel tolerates that. But now he sees pitch-black hair and an all too familiar tattered leather jacket and he’s annoyed. It gets too crowded here for his taste.

He’s about to turn around when Rosalya notices him. With an enthusiastic smile she waves him over and the other two turn around to look at who she’s gesticulating at. Great, now it’s too late to escape.

“Where have you been for so long? Free period started almost an hour ago,” the silver-haired girl inquires. At least she doesn’t seem to be mad about Monday anymore.

“I overslept this morning, so I had to take Demon out for a walk,” he grinds out between his teeth and earns a surprised look from Everly.

“What?”, he asks, scowling as always, but she just shrugs and says nothing.

He takes her into closer examination. He’s noticed her in Chemistry this morning, sitting happily next to Rosalya. The two seem to become fast friends, though on Monday in English he had the impression that the new girl was a bit annoyed by the ever-talking Rosalya. Seems like she has changed her mind.

She’s wearing a grey shirt today but the rest about her stays the same as the last few days; black tights, black shorts, black Converse, leather jacket, hair still messy and long, eyes still disturbingly blue. Well, he shouldn’t be surprised by unusual eye colours really, with Lysander’s heterochromia and Rosa’s falcon eyes, he thinks.

“So, Elody just met Amber,” Lysander recounts when Castiel finally comes closer to sit between him and Everly.

“Everly,” Castiel corrects in an initial reaction, putting surprised frowns on the girls’ faces. Lysander just huffs.

“ _What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet_ ,” he cites. The girls laugh, Castiel stays silent. That is why Lysander writes their lyrics and not him. He quotes fucking Shakespeare from the top of his head.

“So, I figured as much before, but now I am pretty sure: you like Shakespeare, huh?”, Everly deduces with a cheeky grin in Lysander’s direction, who puffs his chest proudly.

“’Tis true, young Emily,” he says pompously.

“Everly,” Castiel curses this reflex of which he doesn’t know where it came from. Usually he doesn’t bother to correct Lysander with names, he’s just terrible with them. He called Castiel ‘Conrad’ for a good 4 months before getting it right.

“Don’t mind Lys,” Rosa cuts in, “he called me all forms of ‘Rebecca’ when I started dating Leigh.”

“And Leigh is... Lysander’s brother, right?”, Everly asks, eyebrows knit together in concentration. She sighs in relief when Rosalya nods happily. “I’m just trying to get all the connections.” Her gaze meets his. “And you, Mr Ward? How do you fit in with all of this?”

Castiel shudders at her using his family name like that. “Why do you call me Mr Ward like you’re a teacher or something?”, he barks. She stays calm, even though he notices how she grips her jacket tighter. It looks like a reaction she isn’t necessarily aware of herself.

“You never introduced yourself and somehow your name never came up in our conversations so far,” she says, a slight edge to her raspy voice. She sounds like she must smoke a lot but he has yet to see her with a cigarette. He tries to picture her with one in her mouth but somehow what he comes up with doesn’t seem to add up. Maybe because he hasn’t seen Amy Lee smoke and the resemblance is quite uncanny.

“Really?!”, Rosalya exclaims before Castiel can react.

Everly laughs and nods.

“I thought you didn’t like introductions,” Castiel states. How has this become about him? Weren’t they just talking about her meeting Amber?

Everly’s smile is wiped from her face. “I don’t.” Her statement is final, no room for discussion, her face a steely mask. Somehow she intimidates him with it, though he can’t put his finger on why she does.

He clears his throat and changes the subject quickly. “So I hear you’ve met Queen Bee – or Queen A, if you want,” he tries to joke and she reacts with the smallest twitch of her lips.

“Ahh, yes, Princess Charming,” Everly responds sarcastically, “congratulations, she’s quite the catch!”

Now it’s his turn to freeze. “What are you talking about?”, he asks, voice icy.

She laughs “She told me to back off and that you were hers. Then she ‘accidentally’ spilled her coffee over me.”

Only now Castiel notices the ugly brown stains on the hem of her grey shirt. “She didn’t,” he growls through his teeth. He can’t believe this girl. Hasn’t he made it clear enough, time and time again for her?

“Don’t worry, I didn’t take her too seriously. You don’t seem to be the type to fancy girls like her,” she says, then seems to re-evaluate what she just said and blushes violently, adding: “Not that I’m actually trying anything with you...”

 _Cute_ , says a voice in his head but he shakes it off, smirking at her. _She’s not as tough as she leads on_. Maybe he can get a rise out of her from time to time. Maybe he can tolerate her on his rooftop then.

“That’s what you say now, but when you find out what a catch _I_ am...,” he leaves the sentence open for her imagination and the red from her cheeks spreads to her neck, leaving nervous blotches. She’s flustered so easily...

She catches herself just before the bell rings for lunch break. “Maybe I’m not the type to fancy boys like _you_ ,” she shoots back, but Castiel just laughs.

Rosalya jumps up, apparently having had enough of being ignored. “Let’s go to the canteen, Everly! I’m starving!”, the tall beauty commands, reaching for the addressee’s hands to help her up.

“My name’s Castiel, by the way. If you ever feel the need to call for me, _Princess_.”

After their lunch break – which Castiel finally enjoys only in the company of Lysander, who claims isn’t hungry – they have PE as their last class of the day. Usually it wouldn’t be worth mentioning for Castiel; he doesn’t really care for it, but they normally play a lot of basketball and he’s on the basketball team, so he’s okay with that.

But today is different. Not only has Mr Boris shunned all the basketballs from the gym in favour of various different devices that Castiel can’t name, but it is also the first time that Castiel sees Everly without her leather jacket.

When the raven-haired girl steps out of the dressing room she wears a wide white cropped shirt with short sleeves that, combined with her black gym shorts, reveals the skin of her abdomen when she reaches up to tie her hair into a tidy bun with practised movements.

Castiel is surprised that her whole air seems to have changed. It _is_ the jacket that makes her look so frail – she’s still tiny now but her toned muscles reveal that she’s an athlete first and foremost. She stands a lot straighter too than she does in any other class, making her seem confident and in command of the room. He expected anything but this and he has to pull himself together not to let it show. He wonders where her sudden change has come from.

“Oh,” Lysander’s surprised utterance tells Castiel that his friend, too, has not expected this, “she looks a lot fitter than I thought.”

Castiel smirks. “So you think she looks fit?”, he teases him, but Lysander doesn’t react.

They get to warming up and then Mr Boris makes them set up different stations with the devices he brought. He explains them all, but Castiel isn’t too interested in listening. They have something to do with aerobics and rhythmic gymnastics, so his focus is off. He just hears that they’re supposed to come up with a choreography with a device of their choice in a group of 3 to 4 students in the next few weeks. Castiel huffs. He does not look forward to this. This feels a whole lot like _dancing_ and Castiel doesn’t do that. Maybe he can skip PE in the next few weeks more than he usually does.

Lysander pulls him to the station with clubs and poi and across the room he can see that Rosa and Everly join Violette and Kim at the station that has ribbons and batons.

Castiel starts juggling with three clubs (it’s the most he can manage, and only barely), while Lysander tries swinging the poi. He has them in knots in no time and Castiel laughs at his friend while trying to keep up with his clubs. From the corner of his eyes he catches Everly’s graceful movements with the ribbons and the shifted focus makes him drop a club but he barely notices as he turns to be able to get a better look at her. The movements seem to come so easily to her that it looks like she’s never done anything else – until she somehow manages to knot the ribbon around her ankles. She laughs and takes them of, just dropping the item and starts twirling without it. That’s when it hits him: she’s a dancer. It looks a bit like ballet to him, but he doesn’t know shit about dancing, so it could be any type really.

Rosa says something to Everly that makes her stop twirling, looking down at her feet instead. A pretty blush colours her cheeks.

Then he locks eyes with Rosa, who has caught him staring. She shoots him a knowing look and turns back to Everly, while Castiel picks up his clubs and starts juggling them again. He’s thankful that Lysander, if he noticed anything, doesn’t comment on it.


	4. the shadows of regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies,
> 
> I know I already messed up with the posting schedule - I'm very very sorry! I've had one hell of a week though. I promise to do better!  
> If you'd like, let me know what you think about the change of POV in the comments :)
> 
> This week's title reference is Best Of Me - Sum 41.  
> xx Phoenix

By the end of the week Everly has a good overview over the new school and everything that comes with it. She actually _has_ re-evaluated her stance on Rosa who, despite being a little over the top at times, turns out to actually be pleasant company. The girl also seems very set on spending as much time with Everly in school as she can. Everly suspects that it is because Rosa doesn’t seem to have close girlfriends at school – not that Everly minds being occupied by Rosa anyway. It spares her the need to talk to anyone else. Well, apart from Castiel and Lysander of course, who they hang out with on the roof on a regular basis as it seems.

She still misses Yeleen though. She doesn’t remember a time when she wasn’t friends with her and they have so many inside-jokes Everly has lost count. Yeleen is crazy driven and set on stepping into her slightly oppressive mother’s footsteps – a trait that probably has allowed the two of them to stay friends as long as they have... Everly pushes that thought away. It’s the weekend now, no time to hang your head and cry.

She doesn’t even bother to change into actual clothes when she gets up on Saturday morning. She doesn’t plan on leaving the house anyway. She wouldn’t even leave her bed if it wasn’t for her mother basically hammering down her door.

“I’m coming, mother,” she groans in annoyance.

“Good,” her mother chimes back, completely ignoring her potshot, “we’re waiting for you with breakfast!” She’s ever so chipper and Everly almost wishes grumpy Castiel was here just to balance out the cheeriness. But she has no choice but to get up and go downstairs into the dining room where the table is already set. At least there’s croissants.

She sits down opposite her father who is – at least – less chipper than his wife. He actually has dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders are slacking a bit more than usual. He lights up upon seeing his daughter, though. “Good morning, Evie –“ she crinkles her nose at his nickname for her – “did you sleep well?”

“I won’t tonight if you keep calling me Evie,” she responds, but hurries to add: “but I slept fine, I guess.”

“I’ve called you Evie since you were little,” her father defends himself.

Everly rolls her eyes. “Exactly. I’m not four years old anymore.”

Her mother laughs quietly. “Clearly not. When you were four you didn’t know what sarcasm is.” She gives Everly a wink, who rolls her eyes again.

“Yes, Lucia, when did our little Evie turn into a snarky teenager?” Her father chuckles at his own joke. “Do we still have the receipt or is it too late to return her?”

Lucia slaps his shoulder lightly, a quiet but amused warning not to go too far.

Everly just groans. Can her parents stop plotting against her for once? At least on a Saturday morning? No? _Great. Thanks for nothing._

She finishes her breakfast, still in a bad mood, while her dad looks way better now. Somehow her mother always manages to cheer him up – something Everly is jealous of about them.

“What are your plans for today?”, her mother asks while they put the dishes into the dishwasher together.

Everly shrugs. “I don’t have any. Maybe I’ll just watch some Netflix,” she announces.

Her mother stops what she’s doing and looks at her daughter with a worried expression. “Don’t you want to go out? Meet some friends? You’ve only left the house for school and therapy this week.”

“No, mother.” She never calls her mum ‘mother’ because she knows that Lucia hates it, so her answer sounds sharper than intended.

Lucia presses her lips into a thin line but holds herself back visibly, then tries to shake it off with a half hearted smile. “But you did make some friends in school, didn’t you?”

Everly shrugs again – this starts to feel like an interrogation and Everly doesn’t enjoy that. She feels the need to get a rise out of her mother and thinks of Castiel. “They’re not the kind of friends you’d want me to hang out with. They smoke –“, only one of them and only occasionally, but her mother doesn’t need to know that – “and they skip school –“, well, only Castiel as well and he’s only actually skipped History on Friday morning and Everly can’t really blame him for it, as she dozed off at least twice while listening to Mr Faraize’s monotonous voice – “and they have tattoos –“, okay, that’s a straight up lie as far as she knows, but Castiel at least _looks_ like he could have some – “they’re real vigilantes!”

But her statement doesn’t get the reaction she was going for. Her mother, instead of being upset or angry, laughs. “Vigilantes?”, she repeats her daughters words and laughs a bit more. “Honey, we know what it’s like to be young –“ Everly doubts that – “we’ve done all those things, too!” Everly stares at her mother open-mouthed as she quickly adds: “Not that you should try any of those. But we trust you, because we know that you’re a good girl.”

An unexpected wave of emotions rolls over her at those words, memories come back to haunt her and her eyes well up. “Not good enough,” she states hollowly, turns on her heels and escapes into her bedroom where she locks the door behind her and turns on the Winged Skull album that’s still sitting in her stereo, pushing the volume to the max. Not even the loud shredding of guitars and the familiar rhythms can get her out of her head, though, so she collapses on her bed crying. At least the music drowns out the knocking on her door.

Everly is still in a weird mood later that day. She’s stopped crying, but she hasn’t unlocked her door or left her room, not even for lunch and she doesn’t even bother putting on a new CD even though Winged Skull has long faded out.

Now she’s sitting on her bed, looking around in her room. There are unopened boxes everywhere, in between a few boxes with clothes half hanging out of it. A few clothing items are strewn across the floor. Her walls are blank and only the most necessary furniture is set up; her bed in one corner, the wardrobe in the other and her desk just across from where she’s sitting now. She thinks that maybe she should do something about that, make something of this room. It’s not like she’s going to leave here anytime soon. But not today. Today she just wants to stare at the walls, wishing her mind was as blank as them.

Yeleen comes to her mind again and now she doesn’t push the thought away. Maybe she’s masochistic that way today. She forces herself to sit down at the desk and take out her notepad, like she did on Monday. But this time, she actually writes something.

 _Hello Yeleen_ , she writes and crosses it out immediately. This sounds way too formal.

 _Hey Leen_ – no. Another cross through her words. She grunts in frustration, almost ripping the paper apart. It shouldn’t be this hard to write to your best friend. Then she tries to take deep breaths, like her coach has taught her to do before a big show. She breathes against her pain, against the constricted feeling that tries to spread in her chest. Her lower lip starts trembling. Then she tries again, offering no other greeting that the addressee’s name.

In the end, her letter resembles a battlefield more than it does a letter with all the lines she’s crossed out. The only uncrossed line that remains reads _I miss you. Please come back_ , and tears flow over Everly’s face like her eyes are a broken dam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this will all make sense one day.


	5. i used to be love drunk but now i'm hungover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellohello,  
> won't you look at this - it's Friday and there's a new chapter, although I'm afraid it's a rather short one.  
> I have to say: I struggle with writing Lysander a bit. I'm very sorry to all of you who like Lysander, I hope I'm doing a halfway decent job.
> 
> Today's choice of music for the title: Love Drunk by Boys Like Girls  
> Stay safe, everyone!  
> xx Phoenix

Castiel opens the door for Lysander on Sunday morning while Demon tries to push past him out on the street. He catches his dog by the collar, pulling him back in and letting his friend enter the house.

It’s a bit more chaotic than usual, dirty dishes lying around everywhere, but Lysander only acknowledges it with a slightly raised eyebrow. He puts his stuff next to the sofa as usual and takes out his notebook.

“I see you’ve found it again,” Castiel comments, pointing towards the turquoise thing. It has such a vibrant colour, yet Lysander always manages to misplace it. Last week they had to start a new song from scratch because he had forgotten to bring the ratchet thing.

“Alas I have. And I will let you know that I have written something new and I would like you to give me your opinion,” the other teen announces, leaving Castiel baffled.

“Something new already? What about the thing we worked on last week?”

Lysander shakes his head. “That wasn’t up to par. It wasn’t _inspired_ ,” he claims.

Castiel sighs deeply, but shrugs. Creative processes are like this sometimes with Lysander. They start working on something and a few days later he claims that they’re no good and that he has _something better_. Castiel doesn’t necessarily agree at all times but he’s here to make cool music, so he nods along most times. _Something better_ with Lysander also usually means that it’s got an eerie, haunting vibe to it that they can actually manage with only a guitar and Lysander’s soft voice.

Sometimes Castiel misses having more instruments here to play and work with. When Deborah and the band were still in town... _No_. He shakes himself out of his thoughts, not allowing himself to go there. He hasn’t had to do that in a while.

“Are you alright, Castiel?”, Lysander asks carefully but still startles Castiel.

“Hm? Umm, yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” The redhead turns around to his friend, voice slightly scratchy.

“You had that look again.”

“What look?” Castiel rolls his eyes. He really doesn’t need a Lysander-shaped therapy session right now.

“Like you were far away. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you looked melancholic.” Lysander doesn’t ask, he merely states what he considers facts and Castiel hates it. His friend is usually so far up in the clouds with his head that he doesn’t notice many things – but maybe he just doesn’t give him enough credit.

When Castiel just stares at him without an apparent reaction, Lysander adds: “Rosalya told me you had a girlfriend before I moved here and that it didn’t end well.”

The statement hits Castiel like a blow to the gut. _Rosalya, that big-mouthed, nosy..._ he doesn’t find an appropriate insult. “Rosalya puts her nose where it doesn’t belong,” he growls instead. He really doesn’t want to talk about Deborah right now. Particularly not when he’s actively trying not to think about her.

“Am I right in assuming that you’ve never talked about her to anyone?” Lysander’s knowing look fuel’s Castiel fire further.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” his voice rises. “She’s gone, end of story.”

“It doesn’t seem like the end of the story when you can’t let go.” Lysander is still calm as ever while shrugging like they’re talking about the canteen’s Bolognese.

It takes Castiel great effort not to lash out at his best friend. Why does the guy not take a hint? It’s obvious this is not a good topic for light conversation, isn’t it? “I’m not hung up on Deborah,” he grinds through gritted teeth. It is the first time he’s actually said her name out loud since she left and it hurts, but it does so less than he’d expected. He also knows that it’s only a half-truth, but he can’t bear to tell Lysander the truth and it’s also not like he can just _decide_ to let is guard down. He’s built a fortress around himself when Deborah left and now he finds himself stuck in walls he doesn’t know how to pull down anymore, even in the company of people he actually likes, sometimes not even for himself. So this is all that he can offer.

“If you say so,” his friend states, apparently oblivious to the storm raging inside Castiel. It is the end to their conversation about Deborah; Castiel doesn’t reply and Lysander doesn’t push further and after a few moments of silence they just go over to talking about the new song.


	6. there’s a million other girls that do it just like you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you,
> 
> another Friday, another chapter - I hope you like it!
> 
> Today's title is taken from Paramore's Misery Business.  
> Would you like me to make a playlist with the songs on Spotify? I can only recommend every song I've picked as title references - I love them all ;)
> 
> Stay safe & healthy, everyone!  
> xx Phoenix

“Hello Everly,” Mr Alden greets her warmly when she walks into his office.

“Hello Mr Alden,” she replies, a thin-lipped smile is everything she can manage. It has not been a great weekend and today hasn’t made it any better. All she wants to do is go home, take a shower and crawl into bed and pretend that everything will be alright again. Instead she sits down on the couch, elbows on her knees, back hunched.

“I told you that you could call me Taran, Everly. But if you’re more comfortable with Mr Alden, that’s fine, too.” Everly just stares at him. “Okay, so is there something you’d like to talk about today?” The therapist asks, likely catching onto her sombre mood.

She shakes her head. “No, there isn’t.”

Mr Alden cocks an eyebrow. “Okay, then. Shall I propose a topic or would you rather sit in silence?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, then adds: “I don’t really care.”

Mr Alden nods, a pensive look on his face. “Why don’t you tell me where you got that nasty stain on your shirt?” he points to the front of her shirt with his chin where a big red stain stands out on the dark grey fabric.

Everly frowns. For a moment she doesn’t say anything, contemplating not to answer, but eventually she tells him: “That’s what was supposed to be my lunch. A girl tripped me in the canteen when I wasn’t prepared so I landed in my pasta.”

Mr Alden’s expression turns from pensive to worried. “It’s only you second week of school, isn’t it?”

The 17-year old rolls her eyes. “Yes it is. But it doesn’t matter. She’s only doing it because I hang out with Castiel and she has a weird obsession with him.”

“Castiel?”, Mr Alden asks and Everly remembers that in their last session she didn’t even know his first name yet.

“Grumpy-music-guy,” she explains. Recognition sparks up in Mr Alden’s eyes.

“Ah, so she’s jealous that you two hang out now?”, he inquires further, earning another roll of the eyes from his patient.

“It’s not that I seek him out intentionally – he just happens to be there when I hang out with Rosalya on the roof. It’s hardly my fault that she’s a terrible person and he’s not interested in talking to her.”

“So why do you think she taunts _you_ then?” He looks intrigued now and Everly wonders why he’s so interested in her answer – it’s quite clear why Amber does it, isn’t it?

“She’s just insecure and has to belittle others to feel better about herself. Her insecurity makes her prone to jealousy and she acts from a place of desperation.”

Mr Alden appears to be impressed by her answer. “Well, I probably couldn’t have said it better, Everly. That was very insightful,” he praises her.

Everly sighs. “Yes, well, it’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with girls like her. And look, before you say something about that: I don’t really care about it. I’m not hurt because I know I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t need to work on it – she does. And if a dirty shirt is the worst she does, I really couldn’t care less.”

The man in front of her nods his head slowly. “Yes, that is a very rational approach you have there.” Everly feels like this is not going to be all he has to say about this. “But taking away all rationality – when you walked into this office, you didn’t look as unaffected as you claim to be.”

Everly groans inwardly. She really doesn’t want to delve into the depths of bullying right now – she’s said her part and she means it. Of course she would’ve preferred not to land in her lunch today, but it’s not like she’ll dwell on it for the next years.

“I’m just tired of it,” she hears herself admitting anyway.

“I understand that,” Mr Alden says in a sympathetic tone, “it’s exhausting to be harassed, no matter how healthy your stance on it is.”

Everly nods, then shrugs. “It’s not like I’m going to throw a tantrum about it. Once she realises she can’t get under my skin with it she’ll likely stop bothering me.”

Mr Alden looks at her and she can’t really place his expression. Does he not agree with her? Or does he simply not have anything else to say about it?

“You said that this wasn’t your first time you had to deal with girls like her?” So he _does_ have something to say.

Now she groans audibly. “Do we really have to talk about that? I already said that I didn’t care and that she’ll stop if I don’t let her in. I have friends that have my back, I’m not alone. And I wasn’t alone back then either.” Her voice is harsh, growing louder and more frustrated with every sentence. “The truth is: when you play sports on a competitive level where your results depend on a jury, you learn that not everyone is going to love you and that’s okay. And you learn that competitors try to get under your skin to undermine your confidence, but you also learn to have a thicker skin and to let their comments be your fuel. You learn that they only do it because _they_ are the ones that are insecure.”

Mr Alden’s eyebrows rise with her voice. “So, what sport do you play?”, he asks and all of the frustration that has built up in her simply evaporates. She falls back into the couch, feeling smaller than she wants to admit to herself.

“World 10-Dance. But I don’t do that anymore,” she whispers, feeling the tears push against her eyelids.

Mr Alden catches on that it is a touchy subject and just nods, not inquiring any further. They don’t talk about the topic anymore for the rest of the session; he lets Everly take over the reins to the conversation and they end a bit earlier.

Everly feels weirdly respected by her therapist, a feeling that seems to build up her self-confidence at least a bit. Despite everything she’s told him (and she feels like she’s revealed a bit too much for her liking today) she knows that Amber _has_ affected her today. Because with competing against girls that are at least as ambitious as her there also comes a sense of disrespect for your own boundaries. It’s like wearing the costumes and taking part in a judged competition gives others the permission to judge your every curve, if you like it or not. It’s like your body is public property. She’s danced in competitions for such a long time that when she stopped it was weird to suddenly not being subjected to stranger’s judging eyes anymore. Amber’s behaviour towards her brings back the bitter taste that dancing has always left.


	7. karma's gonna come collect your debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you,
> 
> I am soooooo sorry that this took me so long, but this chapter has given me quite the headache. I'm still not completely sure I'm content with it. But heads up: the next chapter is half done already so I should be able to update next week as per usual.  
> I corrected some spelling errors in the last few chapters as well - I'm sorry for them, I was really tired when I typed most of them so they slipped through.  
> I also want to say that I don't want to propagate bullying of any sort, not even your worst enemy, but I also know that sometimes it is very satisfying to see someone fall that you really don't like. (Still doesn't justify any kind of treating people badly) In my opinion the only way to deal with people is with kindness, if you are able to give it, but at least with respect because everyone deserves at least that.  
> Title reference: Wolf In Sheep's Clothing by Set It Off  
> All that being said, I hope you have a lovely weekend and that you are all okay and stay safe!  
> xx Phoenix

Castiel is surprised to find Amber leaning on his locker on Wednesday morning. Even more surprising is that neither Charlotte nor Li are in sight and Castiel has half a mind to turn around and run. Instead he stays, unsure whether he will regret this decision later on.

He’s heard what she did to Everly on Monday, even though he wasn’t there – it’s not quite the end of the month yet and he still has some money left to go out for lunch instead of having to eat what they serve here – and he’s not happy with her. Amber has annoyed the hell out of him before but now it’s not just that anymore.

“Hello Castiel,” he guesses that she’s trying to sound innocent and sweet but she’s not as good a deceiver as Deborah and he can see right through her.

“What do you want?”, he asks abrasively, trying to push her out of the way slightly with his shoulder so he can reach his locker.

She doesn’t seem to notice that he doesn’t actually want to talk to her. “I just wanted to let you know that I don’t have a group for the PE project yet,” she says. Her eyelids flutter.

“So?” His question catches her off guard – her sickeningly fake sweet smile falls.

“Well, I thought you and I could be in a group,” she explains anyway. Like he’d need explaining.

Castiel just laughs. Loud and heartily. Amber stares at him, mouth open wide. When he sobers down he turns back to her. “It’s been a while since someone made me laugh like this,” he says, still chuckling to himself.

“Is that a yes?” He almost feels bad for shattering her hopes and dreams. Almost.

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head. “Even if I didn’t already have a group, I wouldn’t want to spend time with you and your trusty sidekicks.” Okay, he isn’t completely truthful here; he doesn’t actually have a group yet apart from Lysander but it gives him the satisfaction of seeing Amber’s pride hurt and he’s sure that he can talk Rosa and Everly to being in a group with them.

He shuts his locker and leaves Amber standing there dumbfounded and speechless. He grins to himself. Maybe today will be a good day after all.

He’s still in a good mood when they all meet on the roof. Everly has only been in their school for one and a half weeks but it has already become a habit to spend their longer breaks here and he notices that he doesn’t even mind as much as he thought he would last week. It’s nice to have company – not that he’d admit to that.

They’ve taken to sharing funny stories today – well, mostly Rosa does and occasionally Lysander remembers something from his old school. Everly is quieter than usual but she listens and laughs along.

“Amber asked me to be in a group with her this morning,” Castiel reports at some point. He guesses this is funny enough to share at this time, but the others don’t exactly react as he expected.

Lysander smirks to himself – that’s as much as one gets from him in the humour department so that’s fine, but both Rosa and Everly just stare at him incredulously.

“She did what?!”, the taller girl shrieks, her falcon eyes bulging. “You can’t just state that and not tell the story!”

Castiel, a bit taken aback by their reaction in fear of having said something wrong, shrugs. “She came to my locker and tried to look all nice and friendly and she _informed me_ that she didn’t have a group for PE yet.”

“Yeah, like her cronies would ever leave her side,” Everly retorts sarcastically and with a smirk. Relief washes over Castiel – so he hasn’t done everything wrong.

“I can’t believe the nerve of that girl,” says Rosa, her eyes narrowing to angry slits now. The others fall silent at her demeanour – everyone knows to steer clear of an angry Rosa.

Everly reaches out a hand to her though, to lay it on her arm in an attempt to calm her down. “It’s okay, Rosa – it’s not like someone’s hurt. I can’t imagine Castiel saying yes to her,” her eyes search Castiel’s and she sees a glint of mischief in them before he confirms her statement.

“It was great fun telling her off actually.” He grins at the memory. “Oh, can Lysander and I be in a group with you, by the way? I kinda told Amber I already have one.”

Everly chuckles, Rosa is still huffing. “Oh, does the great Castiel not want to be caught in a lie by his Princess Charming?”, the former teases, now making Castiel narrow his eyes.

“No, I just really don’t want to be in a group with that rattlesnake.” His good mood is faltering slightly, even though the banter is light. He definitely likes it better when he’s the one teasing her, not the other way around. “So, what about the group?”

Everly frowns slightly. “Well, we actually wanted to ask Violette and Kim to be in a group with us, they seemed interested in the ribbons, too,” she states. Castiel almost chokes at how serious Everly seems to be about this project. But there’s no way he’ll dance with those stupid ribbons.

“But you know, you two always have priority for us!”, Rosa chimes in. Everly gives her an irritated glance.

“You were very adamant about asking the girls because _‘with the boys we will make fools of ourselves’_ ,” she puts air quotes around her latter words.

“Ever the charming one, aren’t you, Evette,” quips Lysander good-heartedly, seemingly unaffected by her offense. Castiel on the other hand feels a slight sting at her words and when he corrects Lysander on her name, his voice is a bit rough. It’s not even that he’s offended. Not really. He knows he can’t move gracefully and he doesn’t even want to.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just surprised at Rosa’s change of mind.” She gives the mentioned girl a pointed look who shakes it off with a wave of her hand.

“Nonsense. Like I said, you always have priority. Especially when you so heroically fought off Amber,” she winks at Castiel.

He’s not so easily consoled, though. “I don’t need your pity,” he barks out angrily. From the corner of his eyes he can see Everly flinch slightly.

“It’s not pity, Castiel,” she speaks up with raised eyebrows and soft voice. “I honestly prefer to be in a group with you two.”

He studies her face carefully, surprised at her sudden change in tone. She tries to look convincing but there’s something else hiding behind her eyes. Something that makes Castiel squirm in his seat uncomfortably. It’s fear. And it’s not the first time he’s seen it in them. She’s afraid of his anger – not _of_ him, but _for_ him. He wonders what she’s had to go through to react in this way.

He exhales deeply. “Fine,” he finally gives in. How has this turned around to them begging him to be part of their group?

Rosa grins. “I can’t wait to see Amber’s face in PE.”

They all laugh.


	8. for every failing sun there’s a morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellohello,  
> I'm sorry for being late again. I escalated slightly with this, so take the lengthy chapter to make up for my tardiness.  
> This chapter also comes with a ~ TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of disordered eating ~  
> Title reference this time: The World Is Ugly by the one and only My Chemical Romace  
> I hope you enjoy it and thank you to everyone who's following this and who's given kudos - it's greatly appreciated! :)  
> Stay safe and have a lovely yule tide  
> xx Phoenix

Amber’s facial expression is priceless when she realises that Castiel is in a group with Everly of all people. The only thing that worries Everly is that this might ruin her plan of ignoring Amber’s bullying until it goes away on its own – and she’s right. On Thursday she finds a note in her locker, shoved through the slits of the door, warning her once again to stay away from Castiel. She ignores it as much as she ignores the nasty glances the blonde and her sidekicks throw her way, as well as their whispering which follows her through the hallways.

She finds a similar note on Friday, only containing more insults than the last and saying not to take it too far – or else... Everly sets it aflame during their lunch break.

Notes don’t really scare her – they’re just words on paper, another confirmation that Amber doesn’t dare confront her face to face.

Her parents on the other hand are a different story. Especially when they sit her down after breakfast on Saturday, giddy anticipation in her mother’s eyes.

“We have a proposition for you,” she bursts out with a big smile. Dread washes over Everly. This can only mean the worst, can it not? She arches her eyebrows expectantly at her parents.

“Do you remember when you were little and always wanted to go to the park to see the dogs?”, her father leads, a fond smile on his lips, his eyes glazed over with the memory.

“Umm... yes,” she lets it sound like a question more than a statement, confused about where this is going.

“And how you always begged us to get you a dog?”, her mum joins in.

“Yes. You always said with all the training I wouldn’t have time for a dog anyway and you were working and couldn’t take care of it,” Everly replies, the foreboding getting worse, tightening her throat and leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Lucia seems to snap back to reality, her next words more carefully picked than before: “Well, since you’re not... occupied as much anymore... we thought that maybe we could reassess the situation.”

Silence falls over the table. Everly doesn’t move. The tight feeling in her throat makes it hard for her to breathe.

“I mean... we thought it might do you good?”, her father adds quietly after a few moments. These words are what break the dam in her. Anger flares up in her, washing away the anxiety, taking her over.

“ _Do me good_?”, she spits. “Is this about last week?” Her voice grows louder. “Because I had _one_ bad weekend?!”

Her mother clears her throat. “It’s not only one weekend, honey,” she tries to appease Everly, “you barely eat anymore, you don’t leave the flat anymore, I hear you wake up screaming at night. I’m not even sure whether you told us the truth about having friends; you never mention them other than the conversation we had last week. We’re just worried about you, Everly.”

Her words don’t exactly hit their mark as Everly looks at them with narrowed eyes. “Well, can you blame me?”, she growls, pushing back her chair and standing up. “And your best idea was to get me a dog? Like that could ever...” She stops herself before saying something she’ll regret later. Instead she turns to the door. Over her shoulder she says: “For your information: that’s emotional blackmail and I’m not interested.” With that she leaves the room, grabbing her keys, her shoes and her jacket and with a bang pulls the flat’s door closed behind herself.

_Like she needs a dog to leave the flat._

Everly sits down on one of the benches in the park, crossing her arms and her legs sulking and stares at the not-so-lush grass. The temperatures have dropped once again and she’s afraid that soon she won’t be able to wear her beloved converse anymore. It’s been borderline masochistic before, only possible because it’s nice and warm inside the school building and the way from home to the school isn’t very long. But she loves these shoes. She’s practically lived in them since Adam gave them to her for her birthday in October. Her heart clenches at the thought and she pulls her jacket closer, trying to breathe into the pain as she looks around to watch the few people that come to the park on a Saturday morning in the middle of winter. Most of them are dog owners, walking their pets – quite ironic, Everly notes.

And then she spies bright red hair. Her surprise over seeing her classmate only lasts for so long; he did mention _Demon_ after all and from the various comments he and Lysander made she has long figured out that _Demon_ can only be a dog. Also quite ironic, she thinks.

But here he is, in all his grumpy glory. Only that he doesn’t even look that grumpy. He actually looks relaxed – almost happy. Is that even a hint of a smile that she sees? A proper smile, not a smirk, no sarcasm involved? _Can it even be?_ But whatever it is, she doesn’t get to appreciate it long because it fades quickly when their eyes meet. Then it turns into a smirk as he comes closer and he’s back to the Castiel she knows.

“Hello Princess,” he greets her, teasing tone in his voice, “did you miss me so much you had to stalk me at the park?”

If she wasn’t in such a foul and ironic mood from her observations, she would’ve blushed and tried to justify herself, but somehow her brain has decided to go on autopilot. “First of all, how would I know when to meet you here? And second of all: you approached me, so who’s the stalker now?”

Her utterance does nothing to his smirk though. “Nah, I just saw you watch me all across the lawn. Someone has to hold you accountable for that, don’t they, Princess?” He winks at her.

Everly cringes at the nickname and she lets out a huff. He seems to have grown quite fond of it – probably because she hates it and he _knows it_. She tries to come up with a clever retort but her instincts seem to have taken a break.

The odds seem ever in her favour though, as a big black dog comes running towards them, barking at Castiel and then turning to her to sniff at her thoroughly.

“So I guess this is Demon,” she takes the opportunity to change the subject as she starts scratching the dog’s ears who seems to enjoy it immensely, pushing his head further into her hands. _God, she loves dogs._

“You guessed right,” Castiel says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

She returns her attention back to the dog. “You are such a lovely creature,” she coos at him, “so much lovelier than your grumpy, grumpy owner.”

Castiel huffs indignantly. “Demon is not lovely,” he protests and attempts to pull his dog away from her, but Demon doesn’t budge, still enjoying his ear scratches.

Everly smirks to herself before she remembers why she’s here in the first place. She feels her face fall.

Castiel must’ve gotten the same drift because the next thing he says is: “What are you doing here anyway? Who in their right mind would leave the house voluntarily in these temperatures? Dressed like that anyway.” He looks pointedly at her shoes and as for demonstration purposes, he blows into his hands and rubs them together to warm them.

She stares up at him. “You enjoy being out here – don’t lie to me, I saw your smile when you didn’t know I was looking,” she answers nonchalantly.

He raises an eyebrow. “So you admit to stalking me? Anyway, that wasn’t an answer to my question.” He sits down next to her.

At this point Demon decides that he’s had enough scratches and saunters away from them, but always staying close enough to keep an eye on Castiel.

Everly shrugs, leaning back against the bench and crossing her arms in an attempt to stay warm. The cold is slowly starting to creep under her skin. “Had a fight with my parents,” she admits quietly.

“That sucks.” Castiel’s simple reply comforts her more than she likes to admit; though it’s just expressed sympathy she feels his genuineness and that he has an idea of what it feels like. It’s a bit funny, she thinks. She’s never been one to fight with her parents much. She’s never been particularly rebellious or difficult. Maybe because her parents have never been overly restrictive or unsupportive. She wonders for a second where it all went to shit – but of course she knows exactly when it happened. She feels the constricted feeling return and a hot tear that trickles down her cheek. She wants to wipe it away but is afraid to draw Castiel’s attention to the fact that she’s crying if she does so.

“Hey, you look like you’re freezing to death,” Castiel says like on cue, voice passive even though he looks at her inquiringly. She wonders whether it’s his way of giving her a way out. Anyway she’s relieved that he doesn’t comment on it. “Come on, I’ll make you a hot chocolate to warm you up and then you can go back home whenever you feel like it.”

She’s surprised at his offer. It’s nothing she’d expect from Castiel but a warm flat and hot chocolate do sound very tempting and she’s not in the mood to face her parents just yet, so she nods and they both stand up.

They walk in silence for a while, Demon always trotting close by, sometimes trailing behind, sometimes taking the lead. Everly likes to watch him sniffing here and there; it calms her down enough so the tears stop coming.

“Thanks,” she speaks up quietly as they step through the park’s gate.

Castiel looks up from hooking up his dog to his leash. “Don’t mention it. It was time for Demon to go home anyway.”

Everly smiles inwardly at that. _Sure. Time for Demon to go home._ She doesn’t comment on it though; he let her keep her dignity over her crying after all. She’s going to grant him the same kindness.

“How long have you had Demon for now?”, she asks instead.

“I practically grew up with him. I think he’s about 11 now,” the redhead answers her in a purposely unconcerned tone, but the way his eyes shift to the dog with thinly veiled affection tells her another story. Castiel could probably name the exact date he got Demon.

She smiles. “I’ve always wanted one,” she lets slip before she can stop herself. Castiel raises an eyebrow in question.

“And?”, he asks as she doesn’t elaborate.

She shakes her head. “And nothing.” She realises herself that her voice is more steely than she wants it to be and she feels Castiel’s eyes boring into her skull but she keeps her eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to push all thought of the conversation she’s had this morning out of her mind.

He doesn’t push further and she finds herself very thankful again. He might be grumpy and sarcastic, but Castiel is actually not so bad at being a friend as he lets on. She’s not entirely sure whether it comes from him respecting her boundaries or from not wanting to talk about touchy subjects though.

They walk on in silence.

Castiel makes a mean hot chocolate, Everly has to admit; another item to add to the list of unexpected things about him. His flat also looks quite different than she’d have thought, the most noticeable difference being the lack of parents, or even evidence thereof. She doesn’t want to mention it though, having an inkling that it might be a difficult topic – it might even be the reason he was so empathetic before.

They don’t really talk much anyway, just quietly sitting on the couch in the cluttered living room, sipping away at their mugs.

“Excuse the mess, I didn’t get to tidying up lately,” he said when they entered, muttering under his breath “and I didn’t expect to have visitors.” But Everly doesn’t actually mind the chaos. At least it looks like someone is living here, unlike her still very empty and white-walled bedroom.

She keeps looking around the room, finally spying a red electric guitar in a corner. She points at it. “Do you play?”, she asks.

Castiel smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he gives a non-answer and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“Well, it’s either that you play it or that you just keep it here for the looks – or for someone else, but since you didn’t exactly give me the impression that you get visitors very often and the guitar looks polished and well taken care of and you don’t seem like someone who gives a shit about others’ opinions, I’m guessing it’s the former.” She raises her eyebrows challengingly.

“Well, Princess, maybe I should call you Sherlock instead,” he teases her with a wink.

“Play something for me.” It’s supposed to be a question but it comes out more like a request. She watches Castiel frown and she gets a feeling that he doesn’t particularly enjoy being ordered around, so she adds a “please?” with the best puppy eyes she can muster. It seems to pacify him slightly but not enough to remove the frown from his face.

“Maybe some other time,” he says.

She smiles. “I’ll take your word for it.”

She only realises how much Castiel has managed to relax her when she’s on her way home an hour later. He even got her out of what her father calls _defensive stonewalling_ , a feat not everyone has down. Maybe her parents were right in moving to Sweet Amoris all along. Maybe it will actually help her move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's Adam? What does Everly need to move on from? Do you have theories?  
> xx


	9. you are the only one that needs to know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people reading this :)
> 
> It is not even a week until Christmas and things are becoming crazy here. I'm not sure whether I will get around to posting a chapter next week; the next update might be in the new year, as I have a lot of stuff for uni to revise on.   
> I wish all of you a Merry Christmas and, in case I can't post next week, a Happy New Year - in Germany (where I come from) we have a saying of "Guten Rutsch!", which basically wishes the recipient a good getting into the new year, so: Guten Rutsch! :) I hope to see you next year with new energy, a whole lot of leftovers from Christmas and New Year's Eve and a bunch of plans to look forward to!  
> Here's to hoping that next year will be better than the dumpster fire that 2020 was. Cheers!  
> xx Phoenix
> 
> PS: Title is taken from Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects

On Tuesday, Castiel finds that his budget for food this month will soon be exhausted so he is forced to go to the canteen for lunch for the rest of January. It’s only one and a half weeks that are left, but he still thinks it sucks. Canteen food has nothing on the sandwiches from the shop around the corner. And he can’t even go to the roof with his food because it is getting colder by the day and the roof is becoming less and less comfortable.

He waits for Lysander next to his locker and isn’t really surprised when he shows up in the company of Rosalya and Everly. The latter on the other hand eyes him sceptically.

“We’re going to the canteen,” she informs him like it’s supposed to scare him off.

Something has shifted between them since Castiel has picked her up in the park. They have an unspoken mutual understanding not to mention it in front of the others and it makes things just a little bit awkward. The vulnerable moment is like a little secret they only want to share between the two of them.

He stares back at her, trying to act normal. “Yes, I’m aware.”

She frowns. “Are you sick or something? You’re socialising voluntarily?”, she asks in mocking disbelief, causing Rosalya to clear her throat awkwardly.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh, Elfrieda?”, Lysander speaks up, trying to diffuse the supposed tension between the bantering parties. Which doesn’t actually exist, Castiel thinks.

Everly’s lips break into a wicked grin when Castiel corrects him once again. He suppresses a groan, not wanting anyone to catch on to how frustrated he is about his stupid reflex.

“Elfrieda is a good one though,” she replies to Lysander, then turns to Castiel. “I just thought that we had to force our company on this one. I have to admit, I’m glad that we don’t seem to be as awful as I thought Castiel perceived us to be.” She shoots him a wink, wicked smile still in place.

He’s flabbergasted by this; she seems way quicker on the comeback than usual today and he doesn’t know whether he prefers this or the easily flustered version of her. “Maybe we should call you Elfrieda then,” he still manages to retort.

She breaks out into a laugh. “Maybe Lysander will get it right then.”

Rosalya takes over the conversation at this, clearly having had enough. “So, everyone’s ready to go? I’m starving!” She pulls on Everly’s arm, linking it with hers while Castiel and Lysander follow behind. They listen to the girls talking while they walk down the corridor.

“I’ve noticed you wearing a lot of black,” Rosa states brashly, “and I was wondering whether you would like to go shopping with me sometime? Trying out a few colours maybe? I bet red would suit you nicely!”

Everly seems slightly taken aback but Castiel has to admit that Rosa isn’t totally wrong; Everly has not worn a ‘real’ colour yet. It’s all been shades of grey and black up until now. Not that he’s particularly opposed to that. He wears black and red almost exclusively after all.

“Umm...,” Everly starts but doesn’t really get to say anything, as Rosa isn’t interested in an answer anyway. She ploughs on: “You remember that I told you Leigh has a fashion store, right?” – it’s another rhetoric question – “And I showed him a picture of you and he said that he would find something nice for you.”

Everly doesn’t look too excited at that. “Not you, too,” she groans before apparently realising something. “Wait – I haven’t given you a picture of myself! How did you get that?!”

Castiel can see Rosalya smirk slyly at the black haired beauty walking next to her. “I took it last week when you were too busy quarrelling with Castiel to notice,” she answers without even a hint of shame. “Anyway, as I said, I showed it to Leigh and...”

“So that’s what Nathaniel meant,” Everly mumbles to herself; Castiel almost can’t make it out but it puts itself together in his mind. His stomach churns at her words.

Rosa seems to have heard it, too. “What do you mean by that?”, she asks.

“He caught me between classes this morning,” Everly sighs. She’s more bothered by this than by Rosa secretly taking pictures of her, apparently. “I didn’t think much of it at first; he asked me how I was getting along and stuff. But then he told me that he was worried about me because of the _people I hang out with_.” She puts air quotes around her last words, mocking Nathaniel’s best student body president voice. Castiel can hear the eye roll in her voice, much like on her first day here.

He grinds his teeth, the stomach churning becoming worse as she carries on.

“He told me that you sold pictures of the boys in our class to the other girls. Pictures you had taken without their knowledge.”

Anger boils up in him while Rosa laughs her pearliest laugh. “How dare he?”, he growls, trying to ignore that there is a reason for the pit in his stomach. “That stuck up, overstepping –“, “ – Castiel!”, Lysander interrupts him with a warning tone.

“What? I’m pretty sure he didn’t have the best things to say about us either,” his voice is still raucous, his eyes have narrowed to angry slits. The girls stop ahead of them now, turning to them, standing in the middle of the hallway. He can see in Everly’s face that he’s right. Nathaniel said something about him and maybe even Lysander – Castiel isn’t sure he wants to know what it was.

“If he has something to say to me, he better say it to my face instead of speaking ill of me to my friends behind my back!”, in his anger the word just slips out of his mouth before he can realise what he’s just said. _Friends._

In the same moment the words have left his mouth, he notices Everly flinch before she smiles shyly, apparently having realised the same as him but having lost her self-confidence. He tries to cool his anger immediately, remembering how she seems to be set off by it.

“If... if it helps,” she speaks up quietly but still resolute, “I told him that I didn’t need help in choosing my friends and that it was a total Draco Malfoy move what he did.”

Castiel stares at her. He feels a weight the size of a small planet drop from his shoulders – he will think about why it has later, though. Now is not the time, he tells himself. _And was that a Harry Potter reference?_

Lysander and Rosa on the other hand look a bit lost.

“A Draco Malfoy move? Does that have to make sense?”, the latter asks, earning a raised eyebrow from Everly.

“Harry Potter? One of the introductory Draco Malfoy scenes in the first book?”, she asks incredulously, but the other two just continue staring at her blankly, while Castiel tries to go along with it and not give himself away – it’s hilarious to watch Everly’s reaction to their lack of Harry Potter trivia.

“Where Draco offers Harry help in choosing his friends and warns him about Ron and Harry completely shoots him down?” There’s still no reaction from anyone. “No? Anyone?”, she tries in one last attempt, then shakes her head in disappointment. “Was this town built under a rock or something?”

Rosa shrugs. “My parents never introduced me to it when I was a child, so I was too old to get into it later on,” she explains. Everly’s facial expression drops at her words. Castiel can almost see her thinking something along the lines of _how can you ever be too old for Harry Potter?!_

“I don’t really enjoy literature from this century,” Lysander says, “I find it rather quaint.” This doesn’t make it better. Castiel has a feeling that her eyes might pop out sometime soon.

He smirks at her as she turns to him, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “Please tell me that at least _you_ have gotten the reference?”

He’s almost tempted to play the Knight in Shining Armour, but it is just too funny to see her squirm like this. “Sorry to disappoint you, Princess, but Harry Potter isn’t really my jam.”

“You savages,” is everything Everly manages to say in her disbelief.

He never does think about why the weight dropped off of his shoulders when Everly called him a friend earlier that day, pushing it down as soon as it comes up again. Deep down he has a feeling that he doesn’t really need to – he knows why. He just doesn’t want to face it; _now is not the time_.


End file.
